Our art show "and then there was LIGHT" opened up last friday. The show consisted of 6 sculptures dealing with light and narrative. Here are a couple shots of the show.

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My new article, "Cold Showers and Manic Transcendence" posted on Art21's blog this week. I interviewed 4 Cranbrook students about method in the studio.
Here is a little snippet from the article:

"Somewhere between character-acting, taking long showers, and listening to music the magic happens; it seems there is more than one way to skin a cat when it comes to studio method. During our conversation, we talked about “transcendence” in a tongue-and-cheek sort of way, but I think secretly it is really what we are all after. I’m not talking earth shattering revelations here, rather the simple kind of transcendence that happens when two materials come together in a way that seems so good that it’s beyond yourself. I think Anne put it well when she said at the end of the day it comes down to ritual, and knowing yourself. And, hey, there’s always tomorrow."

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Meet the butcher. This a new project I'm noodling around with. I've created a costume and series of objects for this character, and plan to do the same with the "Baker and Candlestick maker" as well. I'm still unsure what form the final piece will take. Stay tuned!!

10/20
Here are some studio shots set up for my visit with Bonnie Collura.

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am a contributor to Art21's blog series "Open Enrollment." Check out my first post called "Spaghetti and Meatballs." It's about dealing with the fears that come with starting grad school.

Here is a little snippet from the article:

Last year I worked at an Italian restaurant chain. I used to describe it as a slightly fancier version of Olive Garden. I had to wear tuxedo pants. I remember a co-worker’s wise words to me when I became flustered at a snide comment made by a customer. “It’s only spaghetti and meatballs,” he told me. I try to remember this when the paralysis seeps in; when I think that everything that comes out of my hand or head must be magically perfect because I’m in graduate school now: the big leagues. Sure, we must intellectualize our every move, and read countless pages of art theory about queer post-humanism and neo-regionalism, but let’s not forget the moments in our past that called us to be artists, and the freedom that came with that. There was a purity in these moments that completely filled us with wonder and called us to make work that could in turn be wondrous. Or perhaps we can trace this moment back even further, to a time when our crayon drawings would be pinned up on the fridge – it was just spaghetti and meatballs then, right?